The Homeless Wizard
by EmmaLennyEddie
Summary: In his darkest hour, Kyle finds his savior.


Spread like butter across the frigid pavement, Kyle came to. His bones ached when sat up with a groan and he rubbed his grimy forehead. Self-neglect allowed layers of dirt to cling to his hands, clothes, shoes, and face. He rubbed his cheek, which had gone numb from the cold ground. Always the early-bird, he decided to wait for the sun to peak out from behind the laundromat across the street to warm him, then he would summon breakfast and eat.

At the start of rush hour, the other bodies on the street began to stir, bones aching, joints creaking, and dirt lining in the wrinkles of their faces as they rose for their daily commutes. Kyle inhaled the ever-present fumes and shuffled backward to rest against the grimy bricks of the nearest building. As usual, he curled up in his oversized winter jacket like an armadillo to escape the bone-chilling cold. Unfortunately, the heat of the risen sun beat down just enough to make him sweat and uncurl.

'How can I be both boiling hot AND freezing cold?' he thought for umpteenth time. To compensate for the temperature, he let the jacket slip off his shoulders and fall around his waist. His shirt was tattered and reeked of sweat, so he was happy to air it out.

Bill Graham, Kyle's neighbor, stretched his limbs on his own concrete space and smiled a grimy smile at the young man. "Morning, Son!"

Kyle lifted his head. "Good morning," he grumbled hoarsely.

A few concrete squares down, Mrs. Zimmerman peeked out of the open flap of her tent and mumbled incoherently. Kyle envied her. He could certainly conjure a tent if he knew the spell, but all he could construct were simple daily meals. Apple slices, carrot bits, a croissant, and an ounce of orange juice. His only clean bottle had been stolen weeks ago, so he slurped the juice out of the cupping of his hands (his hands were filthy too, but he took what he could get).

"It's gon' be real sunny today," said Bill cheerfully, digging a can of Buzzed Light Beer from the pile of clutter that was his set up and briskly prying it open. "Good weather for votin'."

"Mm."

"You headin' down t' th' booth?"

"Perhaps next election," Kyle mumbled. He'd lost his wizardry accent years ago, and now everyone mistook him for a typical human vagabond. Even then, his inability to vote would stick because of his citizenship status, or lack thereof. That, and he had the tact to obey the laws of the country he was residing in.

"Oh, that's right," the other man nodded in remembrance. "Independent voter. Can't imagine how annoyin' that must be in a two-party country, but you can bet yo skinny behind ah'm running down there."

Kyle shrugged bitterly. "_Get Chummy for Chumerson?" _he recited. It was a slogan he'd heard around the block, and filled him with bitter nostalgia.

"Whatevah floats your boat," Bill shrugged with a smiled. "I'm a Foster supporter myself. Just don' tell Michael. He's a real _Chum_." He held his beer can up in a mock toast before chugging it down. "A'ight," he chuckled, getting to his bare feet. "Amma be back in a hour o' two. Watch my beer?"

"Of course," Kyle agreed, stretching a leg out to take refuge in Bill's cluttered concrete square. "Don't forget to apply to Mac's on the way back."

"Sho thang! Take care of yoself!"

The wizard waved as Bill strolled off in that gigantic musky jacket of his. Kyle shifted, listening to the empty cans screech and skid between him and the pavement. The sound didn't bother him anymore. At least, not as much as Mrs. Zimmerman's constant rantings, ravings, and mumblings coupled with Mr. Zimmerman's violent outbursts.

Speaking of whom, Mr. Zimmerman was approaching from the right, where the busy intersection was filling up. Dressed in naught but a white tank and jeans, he was holding a black trash bag. Kyle's eyes drifted down to the man's bare feet, which were dirty and scabbed, and then to his own, which were adorned in the same scraps of dirty trainers he'd worn for years.

"Move it!" The bearded man growled, kicking Kyle's legs aside.

"Kick its butt, Z!" A homeless hag from across the way cackled. Kyle had made the mistake of asking her for a replacement bottle after his had been stolen. He growled.

"Ooooooh, I wouldn't!" Another woman named Glenda called out. "He might wave a stick an' turn yah int' a toad!"

The street erupted into nasty, congested laughter as all eyes turned towards the wizard under fire.

Kyle glared at the ground and sunk low into his coat. He'd learned very quickly that the unfortunate did NOT appreciate his kind and would make any effort to put him down. To _them_, his magical "prowess" was a slap in the face, because a destitute chap like himself could so OBVIOUSLY rise to the top with a snap of his fingers.

"I'm not gonna waste my good kicks on a _wizard_," Mr. Zimmerman snorted, mumbled something under about politics, and tossed the trash bag to the ground. Out spilled a torrent of plastic gadgets, including a dirty, almost unrecognizable Man-Arctica figurine that clattered inches away from Kyle's partially exposed toes.

The wizard winced in remembrance.

_Nothing ever seemed to work out for Kyle. _

_His ill-fated life had finally crippled his last chance to become a full-fledged wizard. He'd tried to undervalue his wrongdoings, but it did little to help. His elders shunned him, utterly ashamed that __**not only**__ had he turned his professor into flan, __**not only **__had he gotten himself expelled, __**not only**__ did he cheat to ace the MAT, __**not only**__ did he fail the MATs, __**not only**__ did he expose his embarrassing hovel to the finest preteen sorcerer in the galaxy, he'd embarrassed his entire kind. It was worse than a punch to the gut. It was radiation poison eating away at his insides. Under the disgusted, turned-up faces of the wizarding community, he felt exactly like the mistake they branded him as._

_If that hadn't been enough, Sigmund saw to his permanent expulsion. He'd been a favorite of Flan's AND he was on the school board. Coupling those with an intense yearning to see Kyle miserable and Sigmund was more than happy to have the privilege and responsibility of holding Kyle's fate in his hands._

_Kyle thought that Professor Flan had been his biggest obstacle, as he'd made sure to deny every admission the boy made with a pleased smile stretched on his flabby gelatin face, but in the end, it were Kyle's own actions that sealed his fate. _

_Facing this type of rejection was too much for a young wizard of twelve, and for a long time, he was inconsolable. If being banned from Milkweed wasn't enough, he was also forbidden to return to the wizarding world; he would instead remain with the humans in Galaxy Hills, United States. Staying in America was losing his identity, and it was too much to bear. He was a wizard and needed to be with other wizards; his kin! Not these…humans! _

_After receiving the news, his fiery passion extinguished. He gave up on school. Gave up on his side studies. Gave up on his family, so abashed that they pulled their funds for his housing. Kyle didn't even argue. He simply 'poofed' his belongings into a pocket of empty, sparkly space and watched as his own apartment was locked to him. From there, he conjured a broom and flew. Only when he was alone above the clouds did he allow the floodgates to open and he sobbed openly, brokenly. _

_His tears dried in harsh streaks across his face as the wind tore at him, only to be replaced by new tears. A nearby seagull squawked in surprise and flapped away before Kyle could smack it head-on. "What am I going to do?!" He cried into the clouds, shaking and gripping the broom handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "What am I meant to DO?!"_

_Earlier, Kyle had asked the same question aloud to himself. At home, reading the pristine, hand-written letter that Sigmund had delivered himself. He trembled, fingers clutching the letter so hard it ripped._

_The room went blurry._

_"__**Live az a human**__," Sigmund advised when all Kyle did was stand there dumbstruck and dry-mouthed. "__**Zhat is vhat you are now. Zhou've managed thus far, zhou can manage for-**__" He paused, "the rest of your life," hanging unspoken in the air._

_Kyle didn't answer. _

_Sigmund patted him on the shoulder with a small simper. The sorcerer would never admit his slight concern; after all, it'd been years since a wizard had been expelled from the wizarding world itself. However, what Kyle had done was deplorable at least and abhorrent at most. He was lucky to be roaming the streets, free. This punishment was well-deserved._

_Magical folk wanted the finest of the finest. They hadn't any time for delinquents._

_"__**Well, vhatevah happens, Kyle, I vish you luck. Dazzle you later**__!" _

_Kyle blocked out Sigmund's sparkly exit and stood stock-still, the letter torn in two and clutched in both hands on either side of his waist._

_In that moment, he'd felt an ugly tearing in his mind. Something inside him snapped._

Kyle grimaced and absently picked at his yellowed teeth. His brackets still held fast after all these years, but some of the wires had snapped, poking hazardously at his now-callused lips.

With a small sigh, he leaned his head back and watched a flock of seagulls squawk overhead, flying home where they belonged.

_He could not remain in Galaxy Hills. To bear the memories of failure would mean an inescapable depression. Kyle wanted to disappear, but he had enough pride in him yet to live._

_Adorned in his usual attire with a suitcase of sweater vests in hand, Kyle stole his way out of the city without so much as a goodbye and began to trudge across the desert. His goal was to occupy West Ape Town, where nobody knew him. It would be a long journey, but he was determined to create a new identity. By then, his broom license had been revoked, Necronomicon had been transferred, and Scrivener Elf had been relieved of his duties. Having been there since he was born, he was deeply upset about their dismissals, but thankful that he no longer had to feel the pitied gazes of his two servants._

_He reasoned: at least they can help a young witch or wizard who deserves them. _

_On the way, many concerned drivers had stopped to see if he needed help, but upon discovering his magical heritage, they had driven off scoffing, "Why can't it just conjure an oasis?"_

_"Perhaps I could," Kyle had thought miserably as the last driver abandoned him, "if I'd learned the spell."_

_But he hadn't, and now he never would. _

_As Kyle had walked on, he began to try and picture a future for himself. Now that the chance to become a full-fledged wizard had gone, he needed to find another place to live. He needed money. A job._

_"Who on this Earth will hire a child?" he thought dully as another car zoomed past, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. "Or a wizard? Or a noncitizen, for that matter?" His shoes sunk deep into the sand as he continued to trudge, the sun beating down on him. Sniffing sadly, he wiped his brow and winced when the sweat stung his eyes._

_ Truth be told, he WAS of age by his kind's standards. If a wizard or witch wasn't on their own paying the mortgage by age twelve, something was wrong. His parents were far too generous, paying for his housing and school supplies, but here in the human world, in the United States, he'd have to wait __**six more**__**forsaken**__**years **__to become an adult! _

_Kyle gritted his teeth. It wasn't his fault wizards lived shorter lives. Humans had modern medicine to elongate their lifespans, while wizards still primarily operated on ancient remedies that rarely worked. That, and chicken pox. Ugh._

_Unsurprisingly, Galaxy's Hills most infamous residents were following, speeding along on a big-wheel and approaching fast. He could hear them crying out his name, but he had just enough pride in him yet to ignore the duo._

_"Kah-Kyle!" Panted Fanboy as he pedaled up to the wizard. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle could see just how exhausted he was. Pity that their journey would amount to nothing. "D-Dude! Where are you going?"_

_"Away," Kyle answered shortly._

_Chum Chum, who'd been riding in the side car, addressed Kyle next. "You can't be out here all by yourself! It's dangerous!"_

_Kyle rolled his eyes and bit back a snide remark as he trudged on._

_Fanboy took a start, heaved, and wheeled to block the wizard's path. "Kyle!" He repeated as his friend approached. "Talk to us, Man!"_

_Kyle glared and tried to side-step, but Fanboy's leg shot out and tripped him. Sprawled in the sand, the wizard tried to hold back his temper without much success. He growled, steam slowly rising within as two pairs of hands gripped his arms and yanked him to his feet._

_Fanboy took the older boy by the shoulders and shook him. "Come back and live with us, Kyle!" He pleaded. "Please! We've got a couch for ya just waiting to be slept on!"_

_"We'll do anything!" Chum Chum added desperately. "Fanboy'll wash your laundry, I'll polish your braces, we'll polish your laundry—whatever!"_

_Kyle was unsurprised. If there was anything he hated about these two clowns, it was that they always butted into situations where they weren't wanted. "If I was ever desperate enough to require __**your**__ assistance, I would have asked for it," Kyle ground out, his brackets rattling as Fanboy slowed. "But I am NOT, I never DID, and I still DON'T."_

_"Kyle—!"_

_"SHUT IT," the wizard seethed. _

_"But—!"_

_He stamped at them aggressively, which disturbed the ground. "Are you DAFT—? GAHHH!" The two younger males winced as a snake hissed at their friend from its collapsed den, causing him to jump nearly twenty feet in the air before plummeting head-first onto a nest of scorpions._

_Fanboy shrieked and batted away the arachnids while Chum Chum dragged the dazed wizard to safety. The remaining scorpions poised their tails threateningly before retreating into their nest._

_"Ya wanna die out here?" Fanboy cried smacking at the scorpion that'd chosen to cling to Kyle's nose. "If the sun doesn't kill ya first, you can bet the scorpions will!"_

_"Or the poisonous lizards!" Chum Chum shivered, hugging the wizard's waist. _

_"Or the poisonous snakes!"_

_"The coyotes!"_

_"The sun!"_

_As if to prove their point, the only cloud in the sky shifted, allowing the sun to fry a nearby beetle to ash._

_But Kyle's mind could not be changed. "I will be__** fine**__," he growled, fists balled at his sides. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, whether I am a useless mistake or NOT."_

_Fanboy stared up at him and the wizard couldn't remember a time when the superfan had looked so miserable. He shoved the guilt down into his gut before it surfaced._

_The trio stood together in silence for a moment._

_"Kyle," Fanboy whispered, clasping his gloved hands together. "I can't imagine how awful you're feeling right now, and I know we can't get you what you really WANT, but we can still help you with what you NEED! Honest!" It was too much. Kyle felt tears pooling up in his eyes. He tried to hide them, but Fanboy noticed and pressed on. "Please," he repeated, gently putting his hands on the wizard's shoulders._

_Kyle stifled a sob, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. "You don't understand."_

_Fanboy and Chum Chum glanced at each other, seemingly at a loss._

_"I never slacked in my studies—I always worked hard—I regretted my mistakes, and yet…" he trailed, turning away from Fanboy's hold. "All I ever wanted was to be successful, to at least meet the bare minimum with what little chance I had, and STILL I was never good enough!" _

_Fanboy and Chum Chum were stunned. _

_"Then again, I suppose the likes of you don't understand what 'application' even means, yeah?" Kyle snickered humorlessly, missing how Fanboy went tense. "Funny really, I suppose you can't be disappointed in your own failures if your standard is that low." The air shifted._

_Fanboy stared at him hard but said nothing. It was Chum Chum that pressed on after shaking off the insult._

_"You can still come with us!" the little boy whimpered, gently touching Kyle's hand, and it was more than he could bear. "Who would try to stop you? You're a __**wizard**__!"_

_Kyle yanked his hand away. Chum Chum recoiled with hurt and Fanboy gaped at the wizard with shock. There was a short silence before Kyle broke._

_"I…I'm just a play wizard." _

_With that, he knocked the two boys aside and reached for his suitcase. Nose in the air and tears streaming, he drifted off into his own mind space, their voices blurred and muffled by the time the sun began to set._

_Fanboy and Chum Chum stayed with him as long as possible, slowly wheeling behind about ten steps back. The younger boy sniveled and whimpered, but Fanboy just stared hard at the back of Kyle's head. It was confusing. What Kyle had said seemed to have struck a nerve with the superfan, and he couldn't understand why; he WAS an awful student! The purple idiot had never studied a day in his life! What could HE know of true failure?_

_Kyle ignored them as long as he could, but couldn't help breaking his concentration when Oz arrived in Boog's car. The comic store owner was red in the face, yelling and ordering them to get in the car while Boog tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Fair enough. They were nearly ten miles from home, after all. Chum Chum protested, cried, and pleaded on Kyle's behalf, but the comic store owner was unmoved._

_The wizard didn't watch Oz physically drag Fanboy and Chum Chum into the car, nor as they sped away, but his sharp ears did pick up the faint lecture of Oz advising the boys to surround themselves with better people._

_That there was enough for him to vow to never return to Galaxy Hills. It made him physically sick to hear those things from the mouth of an adult, and he promptly heaved on the side of the road. He was more disheartened than ever, but his pride would not allow him to look back._

Kyle continued to ignore the tittering grunges as best he could, even when an assailing beer can from across the street nearly decked him in the face. He'd managed to muster up a smidge of magic to freeze the can in midair, smirking faintly as it clattered uselessly to the ground.

Glenda, the woman who'd thrown the can from her own pile of rubble, had the nerve to look offended. "Hey, that's cheatin'!" She complained with a scowl before quickly turning her attention to a passerby to ask for change.

Kyle scoffed and curled into himself even further. "Tramp," he muttered under his breath.

"Shut up, Wiz-Boy," Zimmerman grouched, kicking Kyle's leg for a third time. "Give her credit; she actually HAS a job. Sure, it ain't dignified, but it pays for the drinks." After delivering one final stomp to Kyle's bruised appendage, the man nodded curtly and returned to his babbling wife.

_Kyle wandered aimlessly around the new city, steering clear of the down-and-outs and shivering as the sun set. He was beginning to grow hopeless. After abandoning his dreams to become a full-fledged wizard, Kyle had spent days searching for someone—anyone who'd take him under their wing. So far, he'd been turned away from every business he'd applied to work at, even the local magic shops._

_"We don't hire…non-humans," a young Asian woman at Wexel Good's had told him gently._

_"You a wizard, ain'tcha? Where's yo castle?" an older black man at Richard's Athletic Cargos snickered._

_"Not hirin', Boy," an older white lady at Mary's Logbooks regarded him wearily. _

_"Dude, you need to go back to…wherever __**your kind**__ comes from," a Hispanic teen at Frank's Mattresses advised him._

_Your kind. Non-human. Wizard. Boy._

_"Trust me, I would if I darn-well could," Kyle muttered bitterly as the last door shut in his face._

_ Kyle had a wizards' look to him, but having grown up around other wizards, he never knew it was so obvious to humans. He choked out a small laugh and hung his head in his hands. _

_Despite his hypocrisy, he took offense. _

_Kyle himself had a personal dislike for humans, scoffing at their non-magical ways and sneering at their magicians. He'd looked down on, made fun of, and turned away human children his age out of disgust and prejudice, and it seemed that God wanted him to get his comeuppance. Now, he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end._

_The whole ordeal was too overwhelming. Stress-related physical exhaustion was quickly shutting him down. After summoning a jacket, Kyle tried to make a square of concrete as comfortable as possible before settling down for the night._

_There, under the flickering of a street light and faint chatter of the homeless folks nearby, Kyle struggled not to cry._

_To his left, a drunk man slurred out his introductions and passed out right there. Kyle shivered._

_"This won't last forever," he assured himself, wiping away the hot tears. "You'll be out of this mess before you know it." _

When Kyle snapped back into reality, he froze. There were humans _everywhere_. Tall, important, well-dressed humans mingling about. He blinked and shook head, wondering if he'd actually managed to teleport to a convention during his reminiscing by mistake. A quick look to his left dispelled that possibility as his neighbors were right where they should be. How he missed the gathering of these folks was beyond him.

About two hundred men and women with their fancy cars parked up and down the street with several pop-up tents strewn about. He relished for a moment in the shade as a fresh waft of steel and leather invaded his nostrils. At first, he was mildly annoyed as a man of peace and quiet in a crowd of chatterbox-humans, but then he recognized a lucrative opportunity.

"If I beg their pardons," he muttered aloud, "perhaps they'll spare me a tenner." Kyle thought for a moment and slumped. "Ugh. A ten-dollar bill. Ten bucks. A Hamilton. A sawbuck." He chuckled, annoyed at himself for not memorizing American slang despite years of unofficial residence.

New goal in mind, Kyle dusted himself off and stood with determination. As long as he disguised his wizardry lineage, gaining sympathy shouldn't be an issue, and as far as he knew, these folks were from upstate. He sighed. What came next was never easy, but if he wanted a shower this month, he needed to swallow his pride and collect. Before he could begin to beg, however, a voice rang out over the chatter of the crowd.

"He's here! It's Corporal!"

The crowd quieted.

"Lance? He's here?!"

The crowd erupted and parted like the red sea, making way and cheering for the arrival.

"It's him!"

Kyle ignored the cheers in favor of scanning the area for this "Lance". Rich folks alone donated generous amounts to the homeless, but _important_ rich folks were cash-cows. Kyle felt a thick layer of anxiety shoot up his spine and he swallowed hard. So far, nobody looked out of the ordinary, nor did anybody bother with him…until a shadow blocked the sun and he was knocked to the ground.

"Stand back, Twerp," a hulk of a man in a suit and shades warned him. Kyle glared right back before ducking his head. The last thing he wanted was to mess with someone who looked like he could knock him to kingdom come. "Didja hear me? Get back against the wall," the man threatened again, cracking his large knuckles.

Kyle flinched, his mind growing fuzzy. The sun got to him every day, but today seemed extra harsh. If he was knocked out, he could overheat and die.

"Hey! Leave him be, Dude," a stern voice chimed in, and Kyle closed his eyes as the drone in his ears got worse. He could barely hear the guard's apology, nor the footsteps of the chimer even as he knelt before him.

"Hi there!"

The wizard's clogged ears buzzed, and he shook his head to try to clear it. "Pardon?" He croaked, opening his amber eyes.

There was a shining young man kneeling before him. "I said, 'Hi there!'" He repeated, not at all perturbed by the state of the wizard. "My name is Lance. How are you, Bud?"

The wizard blinked and squinted, a bit confused by the cheeriness radiating from the young man, but he wasn't about to complain. He looked so young, crouching down on one knee and extending his hand with a beam. His hair was golden-brown, his eyes were green, and his smile was the whitest smile Kyle had seen in a long time. The leather wallet protruding from his side pocket gave Kyle reason to hope for a very charitable donation.

Then he realized. Lance Corporal, the man behind **FrosTech** _was talking to him_.

"Oh!" He tried to smile back, but his mouth hurt. "Hello, Lance. I'm…" His muddled mind raced.

Lance waited politely.

"I'm…Brad."

He extended his own hand, momentarily forgetting his grimy state before shaking. Luckily, Lance didn't seem to mind, or if he did, he didn't show it. "I-I'm doing well, thank you. What brings you out here to my-" he paused, "-our…humble abode?"

"Employment opportunities." Lance's smile grew bigger. "I need someone to fill in for an imperative position at my company."

Kyle blinked, dumbfounded. The crowd gasped and whispered excitedly.

"Did…Did I hear that correctly, _or are you having a laugh_?" Kyle wanted to slap himself. What was he thinking? Suspicion was going to get him nowhere, not to mention the very un-American slang… Luckily, the other man didn't seem to mind.

"You heard right! I need a full-time assistant position to manage accounts, documents, payment plans, the works—while I supervise my engineers. I'll pay ya well…" He leaned close and spoke out of the corner of his mouth so that only the wizard could hear. "…in cash."

It was too good to be true, and for a moment, Kyle was speechless.

Mr. Zimmerman was not. "Take it before I do, ya lil' idiot!" He yelled from his tent. Lance straightened, a bit surprised by the shout and frowned at the offending man. "Wassup, Rich Boy? Too good for me?" Mr. Zimmerman sneered, and then at Kyle, gave him a look that said, _'What are you waiting for?'_

Kyle snapped out of his daze and scrambled to his feet before the situation could escalate. "Y-Yes, Sir! Of course!" Breathing steady, he composed himself to draw Lance's attention back. "It would be a privilege to work for you, Sir."

"Awesome," Lance beamed with relief and put an arm around the wizard's shoulders. "Come with me, my auburn amigo. Brad, was it?"

"Yes." Kyle was beyond shocked, and had just enough sense left in him to turn back to Mr. Zimmerman and say, "W-Watch's Bill's things for me," before following the engineer back to his fancy car.

Zimmerman waved him off and looked to the newly abandoned square, where the oversized jacket had also been left behind.

Kyle hadn't sat inside of a vehicle in years, and never in one this pristine. Lance handed him a glass of cold ice-water as soon as he settled down into the leather seat (the chauffer covered it with a towel so that it wouldn't get dirty) and told him to relax, because he'd see more than this in due time.

Kyle expressed his gratitude profusely, but quieted a bit when he noticed the smudge of dirt he'd left on Lance's hand. "I-I do apologize for the mess," he gestured vaguely, and Lance looked surprised. "I-I'm afraid I haven't had a wash in ages."

Lance studied him carefully and the wizard's heart thudded with nervousness. First impressions were everything, after all. "You're very well-spoken," he finally commented, and Kyle straightened proudly. He hadn't lost everything. He'd clung to his manners fiercely, for they were all he had.

"That means the world," he replied quietly, and clutched the glass with both hands. "I take pride in how I present myself—dialect-wise, I mean," he stammered, looking down at himself.

"I getcha," Lance assured the wizard. A strange gleam appeared in his eyes. "So, where're ya from, Brad?"

At this, Kyle almost choked on his drink. "From?" If Lance discovered his true origins, he'd never get the job. It was at this moment he was thankful his accent had faded. "Um… Well, I-I've lived in many capitals. Waynesport, Ape Town, _West_ Ape Town, Galaxy Hills…"

"Galaxy Hills!" Lance smacked his shoulder. "I've lived there all my life!"

"Have you now?" Kyle sputtered, gaining control of his drink and frantically gulping it down to prevent further spillage. Lance couldn't be older than him, which meant they would've been in school together, but he couldn't recall a human child with that name.

"Were you homeschooled?" He blurted.

"Nope. It's been public schooling ever since I can remember," Lance smiled, watching the wizard fumble. "In fact, _that's_ where we're going!"

"...To school?"

Lance snorted. "Pfft. No way. We're going to Galaxy Hills!"

Kyle froze and his heart went as cold as the glass in his hands. Lance's smile fell.

"Is that alright? Or is it too far from…" He trailed, a weak "home" hanging in the air.

"N-No! No, it's perfectly fine! Forgive me," Kyle rambled. "I have no means of returning, so I'm content with wherever you want to travel," he insisted in a calmer tone, but he couldn't veil the anxiety in his eyes.

Lance laid a hand on his shoulder, quieting him. "You're not going to be forced to do anything or go anywhere you don't want to," the man soothed patiently. "I know this is a new experience for you and I get you're anxious, but if it's too much, remember you can opt out anytime."

"Opt out?" The wizard choked out a giggle. "On a opportunity like this? I couldn't."

"Then try to relax. 'Kay, Bud?"

Kyle obeyed and took a deep breath, placing his own hand atop of Lance's, momentarily disregarding his own filthiness in exchange for comfort. Before long, his erratic nerves began to settle, and the two men went on to friendly chatting.

"So, what exactly is it that you do?" Kyle queried, taking another small sip. "I'm afraid to admit I've been plucked from the grapevine."

At this, Lance laughed heartily. "Trust me," he joked, "if I had a penny for every time I've been useless at gossip and drama, I'd be funding my way back to Mars." Kyle smiled politely. "Anyway, I may not look it, but I'm the CEO."

Lance chuckled at the other man's impressed expression. "Yep," he confirmed. "I built _FrosTech_ from the ground up. Robotics, dental, hair products—the works."

"Ah…" Kyle managed, wracking his brain to come to ANY sort of thought other than _'Holy Mary Mother of God, this man must be loaded_.'

"You ever want try 'em out?"

It took a moment for Kyle to answer. "O-Ordinarily, I'd leap at the chance," he admitted, fingering the broken wires in his teeth. "Unfortunately, my expenses are...lacking."

"Gotcha." Lance kindly changed the subject. "I also have ties with the presidential elect."

Kyle blinked and nodded. Another subject he had nothing to add to, but he could roll with it. "Foster?" He guessed.

"Uh, no, not that puke-stain." Lance wrinkled his nose and shuddered dramatically. Kyle almost snorted at the humorous disgust on the other man's face. Politics could be so juvenile.

"Well, you really seem to dislike him," he commented lightly, and Lance sagged.

"Eh. I'm sure he's a fine guy…outside of the presidential race. He's funny, he's got a good family, buncha grandkids." Kyle watched as Lance smiled a little to himself.

"Chumerson, then."

"There ya go! Edmund Chumerson!" Lance sighed and leaned back, likely reminiscing. "He grew up to be a fantastic politician. I knew the kid had it in him."

"That's wonderful. Good for him," Kyle replied, not wanting to sound rude, but had little to add. He was clueless about American politics and would not know a single runner's name if not for poor Bill who enthusiastically tried to fill him in. "Are you…funding his campaign?"

Lance sighed. "Not really. You know the rules: corporations can't give money directly to presidential candidates. Fair, but, you know…" He gestured aimlessly and rolled his eyes. "Even if I was allowed to donate, I'm sure some Democat in Congress would accuse Chumerson of _something_. We got the Senate majority, though, so he's got a good shot. Pretty annoying to have those scandals gettin' bashed over his head all the time."

"…Right."

Kyle shifted and Lance gave him a tired smile. "You know. Because they don't like us Repuglicans." He perked. "But, hey! I've sponsored PACs, and that's raised a lot on money!"

"Right," Kyle repeated, taking another sip. He had no idea what Lance was going on about. The wizarding world had a very different establishment. "I can tell that 2036 is going to be _quite_ a year."

"No question there," the other man sighed, dragging a hand over his eyes. He gazed out the window and for a split second, Kyle caught a hint of a severe stress in his eyes, but the moment passed quickly, and Lance was back to chattering away.

Kyle glanced out the window himself and inhaled sharply as the familiar silhouette of Galaxy Hills approached. He kept his head down as they sped through the streets, which were unusually quiet and empty for rush hour, until they reached a shiny, reflective building on Milky Way Lane. Kyle blinked, and his heart ached in remembrance.

_'This is where the Fanlair used to be,'_ he thought bittersweetly, clenching the glass.

The chauffer pulled right to the front, and the guard stepped out first to open the door for them. Lance noticed Kyle's awe and grinned. "Not bad, eh Brad?"

Kyle shook his head as he shakily stepped out of the limo. The FrosTech building. "I… I'm _gobsmacked_," he whispered.

Lance snickered. "Gobsmacked?"

Kyle went pale, unaware of the damage his small slip could cause. Luckily, Lance only found humor in the dialect.

"How incrrrrredibly prrrrrroper," he joked with an exaggerated British accent, rolling his r's with gusto. "_Most_ orrrrthodox! But, yeah, it's pretty incredible; construction took like, a decade."

Kyle paused. He wanted to ask about the water tower that used to stand proud over the old apartment building, which too was gone.

"You ready to head inside?"

Kyle relaxed. He could ask another day. "Of course," he enthusiastically replied, glancing around. "Wait, where's the entryway? The doors?"

Lance threw his head back and cackled, causing Kyle to squint in confusion. "Who needs doors?"

Before the wizard could answer, the world went white in a cloud of plasma. In the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the car, but rather on the top floor inside the building—he was looking out the window of FrostTech itself! That, and he hadn't felt the thrill of teleportation in years! Artificial, yes, but teleportation nonetheless. He gasped, heart pounding, but Lance was unconcerned, dusting himself off.

"Welcome," Lance announced, flourishing his arms, "to your new and improved "humble abode"!"

Kyle blinked and dared to take in the luxury of this place. Plush carpet, modern furniture, spacious room for…for anything! It gleamed of silver, but the warmth of the fireplace below the plasma screen TV gave the room a cozy aura. All to die for. "M-Mine?" He finally choked out, feeling numb and overjoyed at the same time.

"Yep! Drop off your things anywhere."

This had to be a dream. "I-It's to much! I don't mind sleeping outside," Kyle rambled, blinking rapidly and secretly pinching his wrist behind his back to make sure he wasn't asleep.

Lance waved his hand good-naturedly. "Pish to the posh, Brad. No employee of mine is sleeping on a dirty sidewalk." He quickly added, "No offense. I-I'm sure it was comfy."

"Like a nit-infested slab," Kyle joked, again hit with that strange sense of familiarity. The question that was brewing on his mind since the start of the trip made itself known. "Sir, this is beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. It's too much—and I understand you want the best for me, but that's just it—!" He stopped, holding his hands over his chest. "Why me?"

Lance just smiled and shrugged. "Hey, I've got _high standards_."

"But—!" The poor wizard gaped and struggled for a moment, trying to elucidate. "There were other people on the street. My neighbors—you could have chosen any one of them-"

"I'm cleaning up the streets," Lance informed him. "Part of giving back to the community, and I picked you first."

"Yes!" Kyle agreed, letting that hang over. "…Why?"

Lance HAD to know that Kyle was a wizard by now. His dialect, his features; both pointed toward. The obvious, but the human seemed to be either ignoring the fact or genuinely not knowing.

"Geez, I wish I had written something down! I should've planned out a whole speech," Lance chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll explain myself in detail later, but now I just want to say," he paused, "that there's something special about you. I can tell."

Kyle nearly broke then and there. He let those words wash over him like a downpour before straightening out with determination. He wanted to prove to this man that he was worth the energy and trust. "Anything you need done," he exclaimed, "I can do."

"Ooh, eager to start, huh? I'm liking that enthusiasm," Lance grinned, clapping his shoulder. "Your first shift starts next week at nine AM, so that gives ya plenty of time to settle in."

Kyle felt woozy. He couldn't believe this man's kindness nor how on earth he could even begin to give his thanks, but before he could say a word, Lance checked his watch.

"Oh!" He jumped, startling the wizard. "Sorry, Dude, I need to skedaddle."

Kyle watched dizzily as the man scrambled about, grabbing a set of keys and a plastic bag off the counter top.

"Business meeting?" He queried with interest.

Lance beamed with pride. "Nope, I'm picking up the kids today. I've got three boys in karate and three girls in soccer. You make yourself comfortable, okay? Take a shower."

"You have _six_ children?" Kyle was astounded. "I-I don't want to impose on your family!"

"We live upstairs, Dude; _this_ joint is all yours!" The other man assured. "Besides, I'd love them—and my wife—to meetcha." He pulled the small remote from his pocket and pressed the blue button. "See you soon, Bud!" He disappeared into the void.

"…Meet _me_?"

With Lance gone, Kyle was left alone in an unfamiliar world of comfort. He promptly collapsed onto and laughed, hardly believing own luck. "Lance, Lance, Lance," he said, "you've just saved my life." To show his gratitude, Kyle decided he'd write a long thank you letter—right after he cleaned up. He wasn't about to waste any time disregarding Lance's orders, so Kyle sprinted to the bathroom door, calming himself down enough to carefully step inside.

Much like the main room, the restroom was nothing short of impressive. Spacious, modern, and warm, it seemed to lull him in with no effort at all.

Kyle stepped into said shower and marveled. Firstly, it was huge. Secondly, it was gorgeous. Thirdly, the walls were lines with dozens of settings. The white-gold tiles glittered as he made his way around.

A full length mirror on the far end of the shower. Kyle closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

No more.

Turning away, he peeled his dirty clothing off and folded them as neatly as he could, setting them on the floor just outside the shower door. The solid wall of the shower went up to his neck, and glass from there to the ceiling.

Kyle's initial excitement increased as he explored the array of settings on the wall. Some jets strong, some sprayed in patterns, but were illuminated with a multitude of colors that made him gasp at the beauty. The heated water contained cleaning agents that attacked the grime layering his skin and loosened it enough to slough off like disintegrated mud.

Grabbing a loofa, Kyle scrubbed himself relentlessly, marveling at the paleness of his freckled skin beneath the years of dirt that plagued his body. From there, tears began to well up in his eyes and gently spill over in happy rivulets. This is what he'd been praying for: a chance to wash away his past.

Plucking a bottle from its holder, Kyle read the label and jumped on his heels. As far as he heard, the _Lockinator_ hair product was the most popular one in the country. Without a second thought, Kyle squirted a bounty in his hands as the directions instructed and scrubbed his locks relentlessly. The dirt all but left him, swirling around his feet and disappearing into the drain as he dug his fingernails into his scalp to loosen every bit of ick he could find. Kyle felt a million times better than he did just ten minutes ago, and finally dropped his hands with finality to gaze at the mirror.

What a transformation… That foul, miserable man he'd been just a while ago had drained away with the dirt, leaving behind a glowing figure that seemed a different being entirely.

Surrounded by warmth, white light, and golden beauty, he felt as if he was in Heaven. Maybe he'd died and Lance, a guardian angel, had taken him to rapture. Kyle could have laughed with glee, and he did! For the first time in years…he tilted his head back and laughed with joy as the warm water cascaded over him. After another minute, he turned off the jets and reveled in relaxation—something he hadn't ever felt on the streets.

Pressing another button out of pure curiosity, Kyle gasped as a robotic voice warned him to shut his eyes and mouth and hold his arms out. He obeyed, heart pounding. Just moments later, a blast of warm air hit him from all sides, drying him in a matter of seconds. After that, a fine lotion mist settled on his skin, smelling of coconuts. Kyle inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, carefully rubbing the bruises on his forearms. He stopped, studying them, and his lips curled up into a small, sorrowful smile. They were deep and they hurt, but they would heal in time with his mind and soul. Not right away, but in time, and that was solace enough to bring the smile back to his face.

With newfound determination, Kyle carefully stepped out of the shower and gripped a warm metal bar bolted alongside the wall to keep balance. He was astounded once again as the bar gently whirred to life and sent a soft current through Kyle's body that instantly dried and styled his hair. The man paused, lifting a shaky hand to feel along his now-silky red locks. Whatever nits he had (he refused to admit it) had disappeared. His once matted hair had always been long, but the split ends had disintegrated, leaving the length where it was years ago, to his shoulders.

He thought he might faint from pure astonishment. What could possibly come next, he had no idea, but he NEEDED to brush his teeth.

It was hard to miss the spare toothbrush, wrapped up in blue ribbons and perched across the rim of the marble sink, just waiting for Kyle's usage.

Beside it was a toothpaste he'd only heard of from the occasional passersby. When he applied the minty toothpaste and scrubbed at his teeth, it stung horribly and he actually teared up. He could FEEL the plaque disintegrating, his brackets loosening. With a gasp, he leaned over the sink and watched in awe as his ruined braces fell out of his mouth and clinked against the porcelain.

His mouth went numb and he just stood there for a minute, rubbing at his teeth. They were clean, free of textured grime and plaque.

One look back at the mirror revealed another marvel: his teeth were sparkling white and… straight.

Kyle couldn't hold back. He laughed, shoulders shaking with mirth as he hunched over the sink. His new smile softened as he reminisced in all those years being teased by both humans and wizards for his admittedly awful-looking teeth. It was miserable, but he could handle the insults. What drove him insane was that he was forced to keep them through his years of homelessness, years he'd rather soon forget. Scooping up the brackets and holding them in his palm felt like straddling a fence. On one side the past, an old dusty memoir, on the other, a new era, an empty journal for him to write his own future and succeed. He promptly tossed the offending brackets into the small wastebasket beside the sink.

Looking back at himself in the mirror, Kyle's heavy breathed settle. He reached out, touching a trembling pale finger to the glass surface and held it there while he stared into his own eyes. There, he slowly came to terms with his new position. All those years on the street he'd bitterly sat on his behind, disgusted with both himself, humanity, and the wizarding world, regretting that he'd turned down Fanboy's offer to live with him and Chum Chum in the Fanlair.

_Which was now gone. _Kyle tried to remember their masked faces, and prayed that they'd found a happier, more productive way to spend their time. He never wished his situation on them, even though his younger self despised them for their cheerful, carefree nature, and he hoped for the best.

As for himself, Kyle's finger pulled away from the glass as he slowly accepted this new path. Perhaps, he couldn't go on as a full-fledged wizard. Perhaps, his heritage was something he could eventually confess to Lance. Regardless, he would go on. He blushed. Find the perfect woman. Find a family. Find a happy end. He was going to take full advantage of this opportunity.

Looking down, he noticed a small black frame next to the toothbrush holder. From the looks of it, a family portrait. He leaned in close and nodded. There stood Lance and a beautiful asain woman with short black hair, smiling happily. They were surrounded by… Kyle paused and counted. Yep. Surrounded by SIX rambunctious children, varying in ages from toddler to older teen, all wearing party hats. The three girls shared their mother's looks, and the three boys definitely took after their father. Spread out along the family was a giant banner that said "HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, CARSON!" One of the little boys, who must have been Carson, was wearing a giant Dr. Sooz-esque birthday hat hoisted onto Lance's shoulders.

Kyle snickered. The youngest ones all had traces of cake and wild expressions plastered their faces, looking like they were planning to tackle the camera man after the photo was taken.

One little boy, about ten or eleven who was smiling from ear to ear caught his eye, and he paled.

_Fanboy_. Kyle reared back and nearly dropped the frame into the sink, trembling.

No…it couldn't be…but, it _had_ to be Fanboy. With shaky fingers, he flipped the frame over. Right in the center, carefully scripted, read _The Corporal Family, September 2__nd__, 2035._ Kyle blinked and shook his head in confusion. The picture was taken months ago, so it couldn't be Fanboy. Kyle inhaled softly and traced a finger over the image of the child. The bright neon green and purple costume was unmistakable, even it was slightly worn. His eyes trailed back to Lance, whose face shown with pride and happiness, his left hand on the young goofball's shoulder and his right hand steadying the birthday boy balancing on his shoulder.

Feeling faint as the gears in his mind turned, Kyle carefully replaced the frame and stumbled backward. He noticed his old pile of clothes that he'd left by the door were gone. In place was a clean pile of entirely new clothes, all neatly folded and wrapped with a red ribbon.

There was also a note.

Dear Brad (nice cover, Kyle!),

You are one tough wizard to track, you know that? I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner.

Let's work on that citizenship, Pal!

-Fanboy

The End


End file.
